


Team Trickster Begins

by JGVFHL



Series: Team Trickster [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Episode: s13e20 Unfinished Business, Episode: s13e22 Exodus, Gen, Marvel - Freeform, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGVFHL/pseuds/JGVFHL
Summary: Gabriel never expected a fairly simple act of kindness to pay off to this extent. But, it's been a while since he had something like a friend.
Relationships: Gabriel (Supernatural) & Loki (Marvel)
Series: Team Trickster [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069433
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	Team Trickster Begins

Gabriel could feel them watching him. He didn’t care. His work here was done. Gabriel looked down at the body at his feet, feeling the excitement and adrenaline slowly receding. Dad, it felt good, though, to know that Loki and his pathetic sons had finally paid for their crimes against him. So what if people warn that “revenge is pointless” and it “gets you nothing”--who the hell cares? Certainly not Gabriel. He was an archangel. They had been puny excuses for gods, barely keeping up as their worshippers dwindled, and they had wronged him.

He was still pissed that Dean had tried going after Loki himself, but not pissed enough to say anything. He and Dean had never seen eye-to-eye, maybe because Gabriel had orchestrated his death in countless ways to teach Sam a lesson. At any rate, they would have to put their grudges aside to work together now. Gabriel had agreed to help the Winchesters if they helped him kill Loki, and they had. He would keep his word.

Gabriel tore his gaze from Loki’s body at his feet and took a calming breath. It was over.

“Are we done?” Dean asked from the elevator behind Gabriel.

Gabriel turned around, still clutching the wooden katana that had ended the Norse trickster’s life. “We’re done,” he replied. He started to walk to them, but had only gotten half-way when a noise stopped him. It sounded like an electrical short happening inside a vacuum cleaner bag.

“What was that?” Sam asked, peering out from inside the elevator.

Gabriel looked towards the end of the hall, past Loki’s body. Something had appeared there, now laid out on the floor and unmoving. It was a person, or what looked like one.

“Sounded like a rift,” Dean said, checking his pistol for ammunition.

“It wasn’t,” Gabriel corrected him. “I would have felt that.” He tightened his grip on the sword handle and began creeping towards the figure lying on the floor.

“Gabriel, we don’t have time for this,” Dean told him. “We helped you with your little vendetta; you promised you’d help us in return.”

Gabriel didn’t answer him. He pointedly ignored him, actually, all while stepped closer to the person at the end of the hall. Stepping carefully over Loki’s prone figure, he finally was close enough to see what--or, rather who--it was.

This man wasn’t human--Gabriel could tell by the waves of magic surrounding him. He was lying on his side, like a doll tossed to the ground. His clothing was strange, reminding Gabriel more of cosplays he’d seen at Comic Cons than anything he’d seen in style recently. He wore all black, and the clothes were torn in places, as if the owner had fought in a battle. The man’s long, jet black hair had fallen over his face, obscuring his features. Gabriel only knew he was alive because of his angelic intuition: the man’s body was completely limp, without even the signs of breathing.

Gabriel’s eyebrows drew together as he considered the person. His curiosity was piqued, and he knelt down beside the prone figure, placing his wooden sword on the ground.

“Gabriel, come on!” Dean called to him, sounding more irritated by the second. Good. Let him wait.

“What is it?” Sam asked. Dean huffed a sigh.

“ _ Who _ is it,” Gabriel corrected. “And I don’t know.”

“Are they alive?” Sam asked.

“Barely.” Gabriel reached out and pushed aside the black hair hiding the person’s face. He was shocked to discover wide blue eyes flicking this way and that, and quickly withdrew his hand with a start. “Yep,” he said. “He is alive. But I think he’s paralyzed.”

“How do you know?” Sam said.

“Why do we care?” Dean added.

Gabriel once again moved the locks of hair out of the person’s face. “Blink if you can’t mo--” He stopped when he caught sight of the person’s neck. Bruised and swollen, dark blots of blood pooled anywhere they could under the skin. Gabriel met the person’s eyes. “Your neck…” he breathed. “Is it…?”

The person’s face remained schooled in an impassive expression, but his eyes told a very different story. They were filled with fear, uncertainty, pain, and they were asking for help. And Gabriel did want to help. It was uncommon for him, but this was an extenuating circumstance. No one deserved to die like this. To be unable to breathe, to defend yourself, or even feel the environment around you--that was no way to go. But Gabriel’s grace was far from replenished. It was returning slowly, day by day, but right now, he barely had enough to teleport two feet to his right. He had to hope it was enough.

“I’m gonna try to help,” he told the person quietly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He reached out with the first two fingers on one hand and touched them lightly to the person’s forehead. Their eyes scrunched shut out of fear. After a few seconds, Gabriel gasped and leaned back, feeling the consequences of using too much of his limited grace. To his surprise, the person lying there also took a deep breath, pushed himself up with their arms, and dragged himself into the corner farthest from the archangel. Gabriel realized with dismay that the man’s legs still were useless. But at least he could breathe.

“Gabe, come on.” Gabriel felt Sam tap his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed Sam walking over to him. Gabriel stood up slowly, his eyes still focused on the man in the corner. There was something about him that had captivated the archangel’s attention, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He couldn’t tell if it was good or bad; it just was.

Gabriel blinked, finally looking away. “Yeah, okay,” he said, turning around. He could still feel the presence of the stranger’s magic, even as he entered the elevator and began the descent down to ground level.

\---------------------------

A week later, Gabriel found himself with some free time and permission from the Winchesters--as if an archangel needed such a thing--to do what he pleased outside the bunker, to a degree. His grace hadn’t replenished enough for extensive teleportation, but he could do simple things, like summon candy and soda once a day. It was improving, but not as fast as Gabriel would have liked. Castiel had zapped him to the nearest town for the day and would pick him up by eight, leaving Gabriel with an afternoon to himself. Mostly, it was spent carefully avoiding demons and other malicious creatures, but he’d had time to buy chocolate--the good kind, you know, that tastes like dirt from Heaven--and a whole bag of suckers for later. Evening soon approached, so Gabriel began to wind his way through the town to the backstreet where Cas would pick him up in about forty-five minutes.

He was walking down a backstreet to avoid the main roads and any monsters that might patrol them, passing dark alley after dark alley, when the sounds of voices drew his attention. The sounds came from the next alley ahead of him. Gabriel slowed down, pressing up against the back wall of the building next to him. He could make out three distinct voices, all appearing human to his angel senses. There was someone else there, though. Their presence was … familiar to Gabriel. He thought back fervently, trying to place that presence. It was magical. It was powerful. He remembered it from … 

The hotel.

Killing Loki.

The strange noise.

_ The paralyzed man. _

He was here? Why on Earth would he be here? How, more importantly. Last Gabriel had remembered, and he was fairly confident he accurately recalled events only a week old, that man’s legs had still been useless to him. So how did he end up here? Well, whatever the reason, he was here, and from the sounds of the conversation down the alley, he was in trouble.

“Well,” Gabriel muttered to himself, sliding his angel blade out of his jacket sleeve and into his hand, “here goes nothing.”

He rounded the corner, blade raised, just in time to see three men fly through the air and crash into the brick wall to Gabriel’s right. Powerful magic indeed. He didn’t get much time to marvel, however, because a dagger came spinning towards his head out of nowhere. Fortunately, his angel instincts saved his pretty face, making him duck out of the way.

“Whoa!” he said after standing up, displaying his hands in a show of peace. “Not here to cause any trouble.” In the dim lighting, he saw the lean figure of the stranger standing half-way down the alley, one hand outstretched from releasing the dagger. Even from that distance, Gabriel could tell he was tensed and prepared to bolt at any second. “Here,” he said, bending down slowly and placing his angel blade on the pavement beside his foot. “No weapons, I promise.”

The stranger didn’t respond. He remained where he was, staring at Gabriel. He took a step towards the brick wall of the next building over, but his legs buckled, and he only remained upright by grabbing hold of a dumpster next to him. Once he got his feet back under him, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath, his eyes never leaving Gabriel.

Gabriel had instinctively taken several steps forward when the man had stumbled, and he came forward even further, now only five or so feet from him. “I’m Gabriel.” For whatever reason, he felt no need to lie to this man. Probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t think why. “I helped you out about a week ago.”

After a moment of thought, the stranger said, “I remember.” He was no less suspicious of Gabriel, and he had every right to be, despite what had happened a week ago.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” The man took a breath and pushed himself off the wall as if to prove his statement. He didn’t look ‘fine’ by the standard definition. Obviously, his legs--while miraculously mobile--were hardly up to par, and it was taking considerable effort just to remain standing. Gabriel had to admire the strength it took, but at this point, it was doing more harm than good. The man tugged his black overcoat straight and meant to walk passed Gabriel out of the alley, but once again didn’t make it farther than the first step before he stumbled.

Gabriel caught his forearm to steady him. That was a mistake. Instantly, the man’s free arm whipped around, and there was suddenly a dagger against Gabriel’s throat. The man was breathing heavily, though he was trying not to show any exertion on his face. Gabriel released his arm and raised his hands, displaying empty palms. Even then, the man didn’t move immediately. His eyes were locked on Gabriel’s face, scrutinizing every microexpression that flickered across it, calculating the threat the archangel posed. Finally, after several painfully slow seconds, the knifeblade moved from against Gabriel’s throat. It didn’t move far--just far enough to show Gabriel he was no longer in imminent danger, but still close enough to maintain the threat.

“Sorry,” Gabriel murmured, still meeting the man’s intense stare. “I didn’t know.”

Eventually, the man lowered the dagger to his side, and it disappeared in a flash of green light. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Gabriel. “Do not touch me,” he replied.

Gabriel nodded and lowered his hands, stuffing them into his jacket pockets. “I won’t.”

The man relaxed and lurched towards the wall, his eyes leaving Gabriel at last. He slid down the wall to a seated position, now looking entirely exhausted.

“Can I sit?” Gabriel asked, gesturing to a spot beside the stranger. The man glanced up at him, once again assessing the consequences. But he nodded, and Gabriel sat down, leaving plenty of space between them. “Sorry about your legs.” The man raised an eyebrow at him. Gabriel clarified: “If I had been at full power, I could’ve healed you completely. And I didn’t. So… I guess I just felt kinda bad about that.”

The man dipped his chin in a curt nod, his eyes drifting to the opposite wall of the alley, one hand involuntarily moving to his throat. Gabriel remembered the horrific bruising he had seen on the man’s neck last time. The bruising looked like it was healing quickly, but the man still kept the collar of his coat turned up to hide it. “Why did you help?” the man asked.

“I dunno,” Gabriel replied truthfully. “Believe me, I’m not usually the kind to play the good Samaritan. I don’t normally help. I guess …” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

They sat there in silence for several moments, neither entirely comfortable with the situation, but Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to leave, and the man hadn’t yet regained his strength to go anywhere. Gabriel was aware of the time passing, knowing that he only had about half-an-hour before Castiel would come to zap him back to the bunker. He didn’t want to go back. But they needed him to stop Michael from destroying the world. Oh yeah, and rescuing Mommy Winchester and Gabriel’s nephew Jack. Them too. Gabriel sighed at the conflict. He pulled one of his many chocolate bars out of the air and began to unwrap it. The crinkling plastic drew the stranger’s attention to the candy in Gabriel’s hand.

“Want some?” Gabriel asked upon noticing the attention.

The stranger studied it. “What is it?”

Gabriel stared at him. Had he heard that correctly? Did this poor soul really not know what a chocolate bar was? “You’re kidding, right?” The man shook his head. “You seriously don’t know what a chocolate bar is?”

“No.”

Gabriel blinked several times in quick succession, trying to comprehend an existence without chocolate. He could, of course, having experienced one for several millions of years, but he certainly wouldn’t go back. “Well, we’re fixing that right now,” he said, unwrapping the top half of the rectangle of chocolate, breaking off the first row of three squares, and handing it to the man sitting next to him. “You’re lucky. I only get the best stuff.” He broke off the next row for himself and bit into it. The stranger was still analyzing the chocolate. “You have to eat it,” Gabriel told him around a mouthful of dark, rich nectar of the gods.

The stranger bit off one square and chewed thoughtfully, probably waiting for it to kill him or something. Then again, Gabriel wasn’t the one to be commenting on paranoia. After he had swallowed, he looked at Gabriel, incredulity written all over his face. “This is …”

Gabriel smirked. “Amazing? Incredible? The best thing you’ve ever tasted?”

The man shrugged, but eventually nodded as he bit off the next square.

“Chocolate,” Gabriel began, “has got to be the best thing humanity has created.”

They finished their rows of chocolate in silence, then Gabriel wrapped the rest of it up and stuck it in his pocket. Chocolate was a miracle worker, he decided. He could tell the stranger was a bit more relaxed and far less likely to stab him at the drop of a hat. That was definite progress.

“So,” Gabriel said, “what do I call you?” He looked over to find the man staring back, the suspicion creeping back into his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be your name,” Gabriel amended. “I’m gonna end up calling you something, and it’s better if you come up with it.”

After a moment of silent consideration, the man shrugged. “I don’t care. Pick something.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

“You’ll know.”

Gabriel nodded. “Ominous.” He went quiet, scrolling through monikers and nicknames in his head. The stranger probably wouldn’t know who Sherlock was, given his lack of knowledge on confectionaries, so that was out. Batman wouldn’t work for the same reason. What else are you supposed to call a tall, dark stranger with a thing for daggers and violence? Wait. That was it. “Knives,” he said at last.

“Pardon?”

“Knives,” Gabriel repeated. “You seem to be fond of said stabbing implements, and it was either Knives or Stabby McGee.”

Gabriel could have sworn he saw the man smirk, ever so slightly. The suspicion had all but vanished from his eyes and his breathing was back to normal. “Fine,” he said. “You can call me Knives.”

“Great!” Gabriel smiled. Then he remembered what time it was, and how long it would take to get out of the town, and his smile faltered. “Great.”

“What?” Knives asked.

“No, it’s just--I gotta be somewhere soon,” Gabriel explained, bracing his feet to stand up. “Hey, you wanna tag along?” he asked out of the blue.

Knives stared at him--he did that a lot, Gabriel noticed. Almost as bad as Castiel. “I doubt that’s a good idea,” he said.

“I beg to differ,” Gabriel argued.

“I’ll slow you down.”

“So?” Gabriel said, standing up. “That gives me an excuse to stay in town longer. And here.” He snapped his fingers and a wooden walking stick appeared in his grasp. He’d seen it in the window of an antique shop on Main Street. His weakened grace only allowed him to transport objects, not fabricate new ones just yet. “This’ll help.” He offered the end of it to Knives.

The man sitting against the wall looked between the end of the cane to Gabriel’s face. He was still hesitant, and rightly so, but he eventually reached up and grabbed the cane with one hand and the side of the dumpster with the other to pull himself onto his feet. Wobbling a little, he took the cane from Gabriel and tested his weight on it. “I suppose it’s better than nothing,” he said.

“Exactly,” Gabriel smirked. “Come on.” He started walking towards the end of the alley that led out to the main road, but stopped when Knives didn’t follow. “Everything okay?”

Knives flexed his fingers around the head of the cane, which happened to be styled like a spitting snake. “I try to avoid large gatherings of people, if I can.”

This guy really didn’t like people. “Okay,” Gabriel replied breezily. “No biggie. We’ll take the backstreets, and I can point out the good chocolate shops on the way. Come on.” He came back and walked towards the other end of the alley, leading out into more alleyways and streets behind the buildings of the town. He kept his pace slow, allowing Knives to follow him at his halting gait.

\----------------------------

Gabriel was going to die. Even he, with his mastery of improvisation in these situations, couldn’t think of a way out of this one. It had instantly become clear that the Michael in this hellscape of a universe was a warrior well above Gabriel’s own rusty fighting skill. He gripped the archangel blade tightly. He had no choice. He had promised Sam, and Dean and Cas, that he would get their family to safety, and he’d be damned if he let Michael waltz through that rift and mess it up. He was done running.

“Go!” he barked at Sam and Dean standing there stunned at what he was about to do. He couldn’t blame them. They scrambled up the small incline towards the rift, and that was all Gabriel allowed himself. His attention turned to Michael, that grinning, sauntering, drawling son-of-a-bitch who dared hate humanity.

Just as Gabriel was about to take his first swing, he heard the rift fritz as it was activated, but he pushed that aside, assuming it was Sam and Dean getting themselves home. But then, an odd sensation rolled over his being. He looked down at himself, not sure what he was expecting to see, but he knew it certainly wasn’t someone else’s body. What in the world--?

Gabriel looked up, suddenly aware that he was feet from where he last remembered being, and he was watching himself--or someone who looked like himself--fight Michael. And he was losing. Well that was depressing. He also noticed, much to his chagrin, that Sam and Dean were still hovering by the rift, held there by some degree of morbid curiosity, and no doubt normal curiosity about who was fighting Michael. Except they probably thought Gabriel was fighting Michael. Dad, this was way too confusing for right now. Gabriel shook his head to refocus. What mattered was killing Michael, and he was the only one here with that ability. He started towards the fight, pleased to find that he was still holding the archangel blade.

But he wasn’t quite fast enough. He was only two yards away when Michael broke fake-Gabriel’s defenses and plunged his archangel blade into his stomach. Instantly, a flash of green magic rippled over Gabriel’s form, returning his body to him. Leaving thinking for later, Gabriel charged Michael, who was caught utterly off-guard when he received an archangel blade to the heart.

“Gotcha,” Gabriel growled. He gave the blade a sharp twist, and Michael howled in pain as pure light poured out of his eyes and mouth and engulfed his entire form as he toppled to the ground.

Gabriel whirled around to where his double had fallen. He had recognized that flash of green. “Knives?”

Sure enough, it was Knives. He was lying on his back, one hand already stained scarlet from a wound in his gut. “I didn’t think that through,” he managed, wincing a little.

“Oh, ya think?” Gabriel quipped, kneeling beside him. “How did you--why are you--why would you--I have too many questions, but you are going to answer them!”

“Gabriel, let’s go!” Sam called from the rift. For some reason, it hadn’t closed yet, even though Gabriel knew the twenty-four hours had to be up.

Knives tried to sit up, but the pain made him fall back to the ground. “Are you gonna be okay?” Gabriel demanded. “Can I help? Trick question, I’m gonna help whether you say yes or not.” He reached out to help the man sit up, but stopped, remembering what had happened last time he had laid hands on Knives. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Knives nodded, allowing Gabriel to help him to his feet, keeping his hand over his injury. “Well, on the bright side,” Gabriel said, “you can walk fine.”

Knives grimaced. “Just in time to get stabbed.”

Sam and Dean were staring at them, completely confused. “Gabe, what’s going on?” Sam asked.

“I have no idea,” Gabriel answered.

Minutes later, Gabriel and Knives were in the bunker’s kitchen, using what Gabriel could get from Sam to patch up Knives. By the time they got around to seeing to the wound, the bleeding had already slowed considerably, which had surprised Gabriel, but he hadn’t mentioned it. They were alone, mostly because Knives’ aversion to large groups of people didn't mix well with the thirty-odd people in the bunker’s main room. Gabriel pinned the final bandage in place against Knives’ side and stepped back.

“All done,” he said. He gestured at Knives’ discarded shirt on the counter next to its owner. “I don’t know what to do with that.” In a flash of green light, the shirt disappeared, and Knives had a new one on. Gabriel crossed his arms. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Knives shrugged. “A habit of mine.”

“Yeah, speaking of which,” Gabriel began, “care to explain, oh, I dunno--what the hell?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Knives said, easing himself off the counter and landing lightly on his feet. “I get that question a lot.”

“Okay, why?” Gabriel clarified. “And while you’re at it, how?”

“You have a unique magical signature.”

“So you were stalking me?”

“No.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t  _ intentionally _ keeping track off you. I knew you were still nearby, and then you disappeared.”

Gabriel tilted his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. “So why did you help?”

Knives hesitated, one hand picking at the palm of the other. “You saved my life when you had no idea who I was.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It made an impression.”

Gabriel nodded, despite having many, many more questions to ask. He still had no idea who Knives was, and he wasn’t likely to find out any time soon, but that did nothing but strengthen his desire to find out more. Out of habit, he pulled a sucker out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth. He noticed Knives giving him a questioning stare.

“It’s a sucker,” Gabriel said, taking it out of his mouth to display it. “Or a lollipop, whatever you want. It’s candy.”

“Like chocolate?”

“Sort of. This is more sweet than savory. Not as good as chocolate, but it’s easier to carry around and doesn’t melt,” Gabriel explained. “Want one?”

Knives thought about it, taking his time as always. His suspicion of Gabriel hadn’t gone away, and being in a new place with lots of new people probably wasn’t helping any. “Sure,” he answered.

Gabriel stuck the lollipop back in his mouth and gestured for Knives to follow him out of the kitchen. “The rest of ‘em are in my room,” he said.

When they arrived at the room Gabriel had hence taken for his own, Knives stopped at the doorway and stared around at the walls. They were covered in symbols painted in black, scrawled across the walls and half the furniture in front of them.

“It’s Enochian,” Gabriel said in reply to his unasked question, going to the dresser and pulling a bag of suckers from the top drawer. “Angel language.”

“You’re an angel?”

“Did I not mention that?” Knives shook his head. “Well, there you go.”

“What does it say?” Knives asked.

Gabriel cast a glance around the walls. “It’s my story. Or part of it, anyway. A good part.” He walked over to the unused bed and dumped the bag of suckers onto it.

“How do you read it?” Knives was still captivated by the strange symbols, hardly paying attention to the candy anymore.

Gabriel smirked, making a mental note of this new facet of Knives’ personality. “Top to bottom in columns,” he said, coming to stand beside Knives near the doorway. Knives nodded vaguely, reaching out a hand to trace a few of the letters, focusing intently on them. “You like to read, huh?”

“Yes,” Knives answered, sounding like his mind was miles away from where he stood. “What does it say?”

“What, you want me to translate the whole thing?”

“You don’t have to.”

Gabriel hooked his thumbs on his belt loops and looked around at the writing. He sighed. “Basically, it’s the story of how I purposely  _ didn’t _ die, then got double-crossed by this god Loki and his idiot sons and sold to Hell.”

Knives’ head had whipped around at the mention of the gods. “Loki?” he repeated. “God of mischief?”

“You know the guy?”

Knives shook his head. “Not exactly. I know of him… and the other Norse gods.”

“Are they popular where you come from?” Gabriel inquired.

“Thor and Loki are… well known,” Knives replied. Gabriel had the distinct feeling that there was far more to this story than Knives was letting on, but he left that for later.

“Speaking of which,” Gabriel said instead, “where are you from? Like, where was the other end of that portal that dumped you here?”

Knives frowned slightly. “From what I’ve learned, I believe it’s some kind of parallel universe to this one,” he said.

“Parallel how?”

“Six years ago,” Knives said, “was there an attack on New York City by an army of aliens?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows went up. “Dude, six years ago, I was in Hell. I have no idea,” he answered. “For all I know, half the universe died and we’re just the ones still living.”

“That happened too.”

“... What?”

Knives waved a hand to dismiss the question. “The point is, you have no idea what I’m talking about, nor does anyone else I’ve encountered. The events from the Earth I know are vastly different from this one.”

“Like how? What events?” Gabriel asked.

“Events I don’t want to discuss,” Knives answered immediately.

There was a tense pause after Knives’ sharp reply. But Gabriel just shrugged and said, “Okay. Do you still want a lollipop?”

Knives looked over the candy strewn atop the bed. “Fine,” he sighed.

“You don’t have to have one,” Gabriel pointed out, hearing an edge in his voice. “I’m not gonna force-feed you candy.”

To his surprise, the remark earned a smile from Knives. Granted, the smile was small and only there for half a second, but Gabriel knew what he’d seen.

Gabriel smiled too, folding his arms and cocking his head to one side. “Was that a smile I just witnessed, Knives?”

Instantly, Knives schooled his face back to impassivity. “No.” The lie was not convincing.

But, Gabriel nodded, a grin spreading over his face. “Mm-hm. Yeah, sure.” Knives rolled his eyes. “Pick a flavor,” Gabriel told him, waving a hand over the candies with a flourish.

Knives sat down on the edge of the bed and rifled through the pile of candy, picking up the suckers and reading the wrappers. Finally, after he’d gotten through a third of them, he said, “I… don’t know half of these flavors.”

Gabriel stared at him. “Is there something wrong with you?” Knives’ eyebrows drew together, not sure if the angel was being serious. Gabriel went on. “You don’t know what chocolate is, you don’t know standard flavors of--you’re not from Earth are you?”

Knives drummed his fingers on his knee. “How do you know I didn’t just have a sheltered upbringing?”

“Any parent who denies a child the existence of chocolate deserves to be punished most severely,” Gabriel deadpanned without missing a beat.

Knives stared at him. Gabriel stared back. “I’m not from Earth, no,” Knives admitted, still regarding Gabriel with no small degree of concern.

“I knew it.”

“You’re not human either,” Knives pointed out.

Gabriel scoffed. “Really? What gave it away? My charming good looks or my impudent sense of humor?”

Knives frowned, as if actually considering the options. “No, I’ve definitely met more attractive mortals than you.”

Gabriel gasped, clutching at his heart. “Okay, first of all, ow,” he said around the sucker in his mouth. “I was not expecting to be gutted today.”

“Neither was I,” Knives replied seamlessly.

The two of them tried their best not to break into a smile while maintaining eye contact, a competition Knives was clearly winning. Gabriel took the sucker out of his mouth and pointed it at Knives. “You… you--I like you.” At that, Knives finally broke and allowed a small smile. “Like a lot,” Gabriel added with a grin.

The sound of footsteps drew their attention to the door. Sam and Dean appeared there, likely wanting answers about what had just happened.

“Hey, guys,” Gabriel said. He noticed that as soon as the Winchesters had appeared, Knives had stood up, tense, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides. He fixed his eyes on the newcomers, any thawing of his icy personality vanishing.

“Hey, Gabe,” Sam said. “Do you guys mind if we ask a few questions?”

Gabriel glanced at Knives, but received no information. The man was focused entirely on determining the threat posed by Sam and Dean. He looked back to the brothers. “Ask away.”

Sam spoke first. “You’re the same guy who appeared at the hotel three weeks ago, right?” he asked Knives.

Knives remained silent, glancing once at the archangel. Gabriel wasn’t surprised. He had earned the answers he’d gotten from Knives; Sam and Dean had done no such thing. “Yeah, he is,” he said. Sam and Dean looked at him quizzically. Gabriel shrugged. “You’re not gonna get much outta him,” he explained, tilting his head in Knives’ direction.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“He doesn’t trust you.”

“But he trusts you?” Dean said, unbelieving.

“Of course not,” Gabriel said.

“Then why’d he help you?” Sam asked. “He saved your life.”

“Yeah, because I saved his, remember? A pretty simple debt repayment.”

Sam and Dean quietly contemplated this, clearly not buying the whole story. Sam cleared his throat and once again addressed Knives, even though he would likely get no response.

“Well, uh… whatever the reason, thanks,” he said. “You helped us get a lot of people to safety, including our mom,” he gestured to Dean, “and Gabriel’s nephew, so. Thanks.” Dean nodded his agreement.

Sam’s sincere words put Knives at ease a little. He relaxed his stance and folded his arms. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

“Oh,” Sam said, sticking out his hand to Knives. “I’m Sam, by the way.” When Knives didn’t move to shake his hand, Sam glanced at Gabriel, who shook his head to tell him that it wasn’t going to happen. “Right,” Sam said with an awkward little smile.

“I’m Dean,” his brother added. “Who’re you?”

Knives shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking at Gabriel once before returning his gaze to the Winchesters. “Gabriel calls me Knives.”

The Winchesters gave Gabriel a look. The archangel shrugged. “It was either that or Stabby McGee. He liked Knives better.”

Dean shook his head. “You do know how to pick ‘em, Gabriel. First Kali, then Loki, and now Knives.”

“Deano, you are not one to judge people on questionable relations,” Gabriel reminded him.

“Really?” Dean replied, irritation already present in his voice.

“Dean,” Sam said, cutting off Dean’s budding rant. “Let’s not, okay?”

Dean gave Gabriel one last glare. “Fine. I’m gonna go check on the survivors.” Still frowning, he turned around and left.

Sam made sure his brother was out of earshot before asking Gabriel, “Are you two ever gonna settle this thing between you? Or are you just gonna keep arguing every chance you get?”

“He started it,” Gabriel pouted, then stuck out his tongue before grinning again.

Sam shook his head at Gabriel’s antics, an unwilling smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Got it,” he said. “Well, I should go check back on people too. Thanks again, guys.”

Gabriel took the sucker out of his mouth. “Your knight lives to serve thee, Lady Samantha,” he said, executing a perfect Shakespearean bow. He looked up, grinning ear-to-ear, to see Sam’s reaction. Sam shook his head again, still smiling, and walked away back to the main rooms.

Gabriel straightened up. “Worth it.”

Knives looked from Gabriel to the doorway and back again, thinking. “Is there--are you two friends, or is there something else there?”

Gabriel put his lollipop back in his mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully. “I mean. Has anything happened? No. Would I complain if something did? Hell no.”

Knives smirked and sat back down on the bed. “Right.” He scanned the lollipops scattered on the bed and selected one. He carefully unwrapped and examined it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. It must have met with approval, because he scooted back so he could lean against the wall at the head of the bed, and sat there, his arms once again crossed over his chest and one leg propped up on the bed.

Gabriel eyed him. “Okay, what is this? You’re actually relaxed?”

Knives took the sucker out of his mouth before saying, “I’m fairly confident that you’re not going to kill me, and that I could kill you first even if you tried. So … yes.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He snapped his fingers and the scattered lollipops on the bed were suddenly back in their bag, and the bag was in Gabriel’s hand. “I’m not sure if I should be happy or offended.”

Knives smiled--a true smile for the first time. “Perfect.”

Upon Gabriel’s request, Sam and Dean allowed Knives to stay the night at the bunker. It was lucky, considering how many people had packed into the bunker that day and, as yet, had nowhere to go. It was the middle of the night, so Gabriel wasn’t asleep. He’d slept for a couple hours right off the bat because his grace was still low, but after that, he remained awake. He’d wandered into the library for an hour or so, but had quickly gotten bored. Castiel was, of course, in Dean’s room being creepy--how Dean hadn’t noticed him doing that every night was a mystery. Passing Sam’s room, Gabriel paused until he knew Sam was safely asleep before continuing on to his own room, where Knives was staying. He teleported into the room so he didn’t wake him, and sat down in the one chair in the room, the one facing the foot of the bed.

_ I’m turning into Castiel _ , he thought.  _ Dammit _ .

Several uneventful minutes passed in which Gabriel’s mind was considering just shutting down to pass the rest of the night peacefully. Angels didn’t need to sleep, but they could shut down to assume a sleep-like state if they had time to pass. But without warning, the air in the room became agitated, almost buzzing with magic. Gabriel frowned, trying to figure out why, until he noticed Knives’ hand was twitching in his sleep. Gabriel got up quietly and walked closer, and the buzzing the air escalated, sending vibrations through Gabriel’s being. Knives was scowling in his sleep, his brow knitted deeply. He was sleeping on his side, one hand draped over the side of the bed, the other hidden under his pillow, probably holding a knife if Gabriel had to guess. Better not get  _ too _ close, then.

Gabriel took another step closer, bending down to see better. That was too close. Knives’ eyes flew open and his other hand appeared from under the pillow, a knife directed at Gabriel’s face.

Gabriel stumbled back, knocking into the desk by the doorway. He put his hands up peaceably, hoping Knives remembered who he was. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” he said in a hoarse whisper, his voice constricted by the sudden shock. “You’re fine, you’re safe.”

Knives, as always, stared him down with wide blue eyes, taking time to regain his bearings, but never once letting his guard down. After a few seconds, he blinked, and shifted the dagger in his grasp: the first signs of easing tensions, Gabriel had learned. A moment later, the dagger was slowly lowered and Knives took his eyes off Gabriel. He sat up fully and turned so he was facing the foot of his bed. He sat there, twirling the dagger between his fingertips.

Gabriel moved with caution to the chair he’d been sitting in, glancing at Knives to read any warning signs given. He got to the chair, turned it backwards, and sat down, resting his arms on the chair back and putting his chin on them. “You good, Knives?”

Knives glanced up once before returning his gaze to a spot on the bedspread in front of him. “I’m fine.”

They both knew Gabriel didn’t believe the lie. But no one said anything, so it passed. Gabriel let out a breath. “So,” he said, keeping his voice low, “how long have you had nightmares?”

Knives looked up, some small degree of surprise showing on his face. “How did you know?” he asked quietly.

“You were twitching in your sleep.”

“You were watching?”

There was a pause. “Not the whole night,” Gabriel defended himself. “I was in the library for a while. I just came in like, ten minutes ago.”

Knives eyed him apprehensively, as does anyone the first time they learn of an angel’s nightly habits.

“You never answered my question, Knives,” Gabriel prompted.

Knives considered this for a few seconds, but eventually set down his dagger and folded his arms, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I've had them off-and-on for almost six years.”

“They’ve probably gotten worse recently, hm?” Gabriel guessed. Considering the state in which he’d first encountered Knives, it was a pretty good one. Knives nodded. “What’re they about? Usually.” That question was a long shot, Gabriel knew. But he was curious.

“Usually?” Knives repeated, sitting up and rubbing his neck. The horrible bruises Gabriel had seen there before had all but faded, but their mark remained in Knives’ memory without a doubt. “My family,” he answered. “My last moments with them,” he added, barely audible.

That was the first time Knives had ever mentioned family. Gabriel’s curiosity rose. “Are they… gone?” he asked, doing his best to be gentle.

One of Knives’ eyebrows twitched higher for a brief second. “Most of them,” he replied, his voice tinged by regret. “I think.”

“Oh.” Gabriel frowned. “Sorry. I mean, same here, but it still sucks.”

“Really?” Knives said, looking at him. “But you’re an angel?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Yeah. Just means I’ve got—I  _ had _ a couple million brothers and sisters once upon a time. Now…there’s less than ten of us left.”

“I had no idea,” Knives said with unusual sincerity.

“Why would you?” Gabriel responded. “But that’s what a couple apocalypses and an angel war get you: a lotta dead angels.” He sighed. “What about you? Any siblings?”

Knives nodded. “A brother. And a sister, for a while anyway.”

“Whaddya mean ‘for a while’?”

“Well, she was imprisoned for my entire life, then our father died, releasing her. Then she tried to take over the universe, so my brother and I had to stop her, which is why our home world…exploded.” Knives picked up the dagger again and started fiddling with it.

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa-kay, Superman. Geez. And that’s what you have nightmares about?”

“No,” Knives said.

Gabriel was flummoxed. “Well, if you don’t have bad dreams about your home world literally blowing up, what in hell do you have nightmares about?”

“How do you think my neck was broken?” Knives answered, his eyes darkening. Gabriel fell silent. “That’s what my nightmares are about.” He gripped the handle of the dagger tightly. “You never know what it means to feel helpless until you know what it’s like to watch the world go dark behind your eyes, unable to stop it. Until you know what it’s like to be dying for breath and unable to take one. Until you feel the worst pain imaginable, and then… nothing. When you can hear the voice of someone you care for, and you can see the danger they’re in, and you can’t do a single thing about it.” Knives paused, his voice having faded to a hoarse whisper.

Gabriel added a thought of his own. “And you think, ‘As soon as I can, I will do everything to make sure this never happens again.’” Knives nodded. “Believe me, I know.”

“How?”

Gabriel took a breath. He sat back, bracing himself for the onslaught of memories this story would draw up. “Remember I mentioned that six years ago I was in Hell?” he began. Knives nodded. “It wasn’t just six years ago. The past seven years, I was locked in a cage in Hell, in a world of pain and suffering.”

“Because of Loki,” Knives said.

Gabriel nodded, his face set in a grim mask. “Because of Loki. So, yeah. I know what it’s like.”

Knives was looking at him, a hitherto unknown intensity and respect in his eyes. “So, when you found me,” he said, “how long had you been free?”

“Two months or something,” Gabriel answered, gripping the back of the chair with white-knuckled hands in efforts to fight back the memories.

Knives shook his head. “I never would have guessed.”

Gabriel smirked ruefully. “Really? Guess that’s something.”

Silence overtook the two of them, each lost in their own memories. Knives was once again twirling his dagger in his fingers, not sure how or if to continue conversation. Gabriel was staring at the floor through the gaps in the chair back, feeling more vulnerable than he had in months. He couldn’t tell if he was comfortable with that feeling or not, but he knew he couldn’t go back into hiding behind his smiles and charms. Knives knew too much now for that to work on him. Every instinct was telling Gabriel to run and hide, yet something kept him planted—and it was something about this person Knives. Some connection, some commonality he couldn’t put into words.

Knives’ voice broke him out of his inner conflict for the moment.

Gabriel looked up. “Sorry, what?”

“Loki,” Knives repeated.

“What about him?”

Knives held his dagger tightly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “That’s my name.”

Gabriel stared at him, trying to put the pieces together. “Oh!” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. Then, realizing the gravity of what Kn—Loki had just done, “Oh.” Loki just nodded, still waiting for this latest decision to come back and bite him. “So, you’re not from Earth,” Gabriel said, “you’re from Asgard?” Another nod. “And your brother… that’s Thor.”

Loki smiled a little, but his eyes were telling a far sadder story. “Adopted,” he said lightly, but a tremor in his voice gave him away.

“Is he alive?” Gabriel murmured, recalling the fate of most of Loki’s family.

Loki’s smile fell. “I… don’t know. He was. Last I heard him. But I don’t know.”

Part of the puzzle finally clicked in Gabriel’s head. “That’s why you have nightmares.”

“It certainly hasn’t helped them,” Loki replied with a sigh.

“I can help,” Gabriel said immediately.

“How?”

“I can alter dreams as they’re happening,” Gabriel told him. “It’s a perk of being an angel. Plus,” he added, holding up a finger, “Sam and Dean have so kindly found a spell that can open a gate to another dimension, like where you come from. All we need is the ingredients—including archangel grace and something from that world—and we can get you back. You could find your brother.”

Loki thought about it. “I don’t think I’m ready to go back just yet,” he responded quietly. “I’d just as soon stick around here for a while.”

“As in the bunker?”

“God no,” Loki shook his head. “I mean this world. It’s safer for me here than over there.”

Gabriel nodded. “Good reason.”

“And you’re … nice.”

“Even better reason,” Gabriel smiled, and Loki smiled back. “Does this mean you trust me?”

Loki hesitated, which was better than Gabriel’s expected immediate negative answer. “It means I’m starting to,” he finally answered.

Gabriel smiled wider. “Same to you,” he said.

A comfortable quiet settled in the room, broken only by the slight noise from Loki tapping his knife blade against the palm of his hand. Eventually, the dagger disappeared in a flash of green light and Loki started making himself comfortable in the bed.

“Sweet dreams,” Gabriel told him with a grin.

Loki rolled his eyes as he lay down. “They’d better be,” he said. “I’ll blame you if they’re not.”

Gabriel chuckled to himself, leaning on the back of the chair again. Loki didn’t need to worry about dreams. Gabriel would take care of that. He caught himself smiling contentedly and rolled his eyes. Okay, so maybe he was turning into a bit of a Castiel. But then again, was that really a bad thing?

**Author's Note:**

> I love the concept of Team Trickster. The sheer amount of chaos and pranks these two could pull as a team is just fantastic.


End file.
